


Semi Automatic

by anna_sun



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - The Walking Dead Fusion, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Inspired by The Walking Dead, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse, destiel alternate universe, destiel au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6503650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_sun/pseuds/anna_sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean had imagined the end of the world, he'd never thought it would be that hungry. </p><p>Zombie Apocalypse AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER. I bingewatched The walking dead and fell in love. I then proceeded to think about Dean in that apocalyptic world. Then I made it happen. So that's how this fic was born.
> 
> Though I feel like I have to say, you seriously don't need to have watched The walking dead to read/enjoy this. I just borrow terms (like Walkers) and stuff from the show. That's exactly why I didn't put 'The walking dead' in the fandoms tag. Tho you could call it a Walking dead AU. All credits to the show for the terms and stuff I borrowed, by the way. 
> 
> So yeah. Hope anyone who reads this don't feel like they wasted their time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes a while to take off, but bear with me, Destiel comes in strong in chapter 2 and 3.

_Night falls with gravity, the earth turns from sanity. Taking my only friend I know. He leaves a lot, his name is "Hope"._

* * *

 It was a miracle they could still talk on the phone.

''Sam, listen to me. Don't move, stay in your dorm, I'm coming to pick you up.'' 

The sounds coming from Sam's end of the phone seemed horrifying. People screaming and stuff crashing, Dean tried to block it all out the best he could and only listen to Sam's voice. 

''Dean I don't- I don't think I can. The whole place is going fucking nuts, I gotta get somewhere safe. Jess' folks have a cabin somewhere, I'll be fine.'' The line started buffering, and Dean's heart stopped. ''I'll send--coordinates-- t--care--self'' 

It cut. Dean looked at his phone in disbelief, wanting to throw the damn thing at the wall.  

It dinged. Text from Sam. 

-

When Dean had imagined the end of the world, he'd never thought it would be that hungry, for flesh and blood and everything in between. He thought about the atmosphere tearing, the human race finally meeting its faith in flames. Thought about pollution ruining nature, humans taking and taking until there was nothing left but dirt and died flora. 

He didn't think about the dead rising in hunger, the dead walking and growling, looking for anything alive to tear apart. He guessed that was probably what they deserved, the whole bunch of them. A long, dragged infection that killed everything slowly, instead of a quick, clean cut. 

The impala roared to a stop at the first gas station Dean had seen in miles. Nobody seemed to be around, the whereabouts as silent as they could get. Only the warm wind was present, whistling in the leaves. Kansas in summer was hot, and Dean groaned when he got out of the car. Humidity seemed to stick to his skin. 

He started by walking the perimeter, spotting a couple dead bodies by the trash. They didn't look old, but they were almost eaten to the core, to the bone. He tore his eyes away from the smallest body on the ground, knowing it once belonged to a child. 

He got in through the back door, arm stretched before him with a gun tight in his grip. Gun shots were a bad idea, since noise always attracted more of the infected, but sometimes it was necessary. At least he could run away ; they couldn't. 

He tried the faucet, and a weak stray of water spilled out. He put his water bottle under it and let it fill the most it could. It was better than nothing. 

He coughed a couple times, his throat starting to get dry, and suddenly there was noise coming from his left. Something banging and a voice he almost couldn't make out. The water bottle fell and spilled down the drain when Dean let go of it to walk towards the sound.

''Please, is somebody,'' the person groaned in pain. ''Is anybody there? The dead don't cough.'' 

He found her by the extra supplies, laying in a poodle of blood, thankfully not her own. There was a dead, rotten body beside her, and a 9 mm in her hand.

''Drop the gun'', he said, raising his own. She followed the command, sighed and let the tears fall down her cheeks.

''Thank god, please,'' she said, voice cracking. ''I'm hurt.''

''Where?'' And then he realized, and didn't wait for an answer before asking the most important thing. ''How?''

She looked away from him, almost like she was ashamed, and didn't answer.

She got bitten.

''Fuck,'' he said, hands already shaking. ''When did it happen?'' Maybe there was still a chance, a chance to cut off her arm or her leg or whatever part of her got chewed away.   

''Hours ago. I couldn't...'' She choked on her own breath. ''I just... I might have a day or two left, my family's not... they can't be far, they had to get away, but we can catch up, I'm sure... I just.. I just wanna get a chance to say goodbye.'' 

Dean crouched down and looked at her more closely, the sweat on her forehead and her black, soaking wet jeans, blood dripping from her thigh. She was too far gone, no matter what he did. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, right in the chest and making it harder for him to breathe.

''Who's your family? How many of you are there?'' He asked, fear crippling him. 

''My son, Jules,'' she said his name with a slight smile on her face, voice weak. ''Robert, my uncle, and Jessie, my wife. We're trying to get to the rest of our family.'' 

He got back up, had to, even if his legs now had trouble keeping him standing. He couldn't keep eyes contact with her, not when he knew what he did now. 

He picked his gun back from his holster, carefully, trying not to scare her too soon.  

''I'm so sorry,'' he couldn't say anything else, like the words were stuck in his gut. What else was there to say? 

He raised his arm to aim, and her face changed, eyes going wide. She was about to scream, and he couldn't let her do that, he couldn't, and so his index slightly shook on the trigger before it pressed down.

''Please-'' was the last word that left her mouth, quivering dry lips closing around the syllable.

The sound was horrible, Dean had to close his eyes, and every breath he took afterward made him feel sick. The silence was worse, now. Proof that there was nothing left alive but him, because of him.  

He didn't know how much time he spent in that small room, looking at the girl he'd just killed. But when he finally took the deep breath he needed and managed to shut down the thoughts in his head, he left.

He sobbed when he saw the three dead bodies by the trash again. 

He still had a day's drive ahead of him, and he had to get back to Sam. Right now. 

-

When civilization decided to end, it ended fast. Barely a month had passed since the first outbreak, since the time everybody believed it to be fake, somehow. The people who left when it started, the smart people, were the ones considered crazy back then, and the people like Sam and Dean who thought they could ride it out where they were, well, they ended up here.

Alone on the highway, not knowing where their loved ones were. Because if you don't plan, you get separated, and even if Dean didn't have many loved ones, he still had no clues on where his dad was. He had coordinates for Sam, but a lot of shit could go down in two days, and maybe he wasn't there anymore. He couldn't have gotten to the cabin without any complications, that was too good to be true, and-

Dean stopped himself from thinking further. Sam was there, he had to be. And by sunset, Dean was going to be there too. With him. 

Positive thinking. That's what everybody used to say.    

-

He got lost somewhere in the woods near where the cabin was supposed to be. When he realized it, when the map said to turn right and to his right there was a fucking river, he snapped. Dug his fingers as deep as they could go in the flesh of his thighs and waited for the anger to pass, eyes closed.

He got out of the car and welcomed the fresh air in his lungs. Maybe if he could get back, figure out where he messed up, he'd have a chance to still get there by tonight. Or maybe he should just wait here, they were bound to come by the river some time, to get some water. Or maybe the best way to get by now was on foot, even if he had loads of food and supplies in the trunk, and god no way was he leaving the Impala here for anybody to find and take or _destroy_ -

''Yo, I think... I think there's a car, over there.'' A voice said, cracking at the end, the teenager attempting to cover it up with a cough. Somebody else laughed,

''Yeah, I see it. Let's go check it out.'' The voice belonged to somebody a little bit older, female, though still young to Dean's ears.

''Don't,'' he said, loud enough for the pair to hear but not enough for everything with the sense of hearing to come running. He thought about hiding, keeping quiet in the bushes until they left, but he knew they wouldn't just leave the car alone after checking it out.

Dean couldn't see them yet, but he looked towards the direction where they seemed to be, and waited.

''Who are you?'' One of them said, and the branches on the ground were cracking more loudly now, more rushed. They were walking faster towards him.

''I'm just a guy,'' he said before spotting one head above the bushes. ''A guy who loves his car very fucking much and doesn't want you to come anywhere closer to it.''  

He wasn't going to shoot healthy kids, but he let his fingers brush against his holster, just in case he needed to scare them off. 

The two of them were in the clear now, standing at the edge of the road. One teenage girl wearing clothes that were too big for her and a kid, with the fat on his cheeks rounding his face.    

''Hi,'' the boy said, looking at the girl with eyes sparkling with a glint of fear. 

Dean's body was leaning against the car, legs crossed and gun in his lap. 

''Hey,'' he greeted them.''You kids are alone?'' 

''I'm not a kid,'' the girl immediately spat back, and then the boy, 

''We're not, we're with our families in the cabin over-'' He got interrupted by the girl slapping him on the arm, 

''Shut the fuck up!'' 

Dean's heart jumped a beat at the word 'cabin', his back straightening and his breathing getting heavier. 

''A cabin?'' He closed his eyes and did something close to a prayer. ''Do you know Sam Winchester? Or um, Jess... Jessica Moore?'' 

 _Please, god_ , he thought. _Let it be, let it be them._

The girl narrowed her eyes, looked at Dean with something in her glare he couldn't quite put his finger on. She seemed sad, all of the sudden, and her knuckles went white when she gripped the kitchen knife before hidden in her pocket tighter in her hand.  

''Jessica's dead,'' she said. ''She was my sister.'' 

-

The kids lead him the way, not without taking a bunch of supplies from his trunk to bring with them. They couldn't get the car further, apparently there was a bunch of dead bodies blocking the way further along the road, but the families figured it made the cabin safer. Dean had to agree, and he promised the sky and anybody that was up there he'd come back to pick his baby up. 

Dean's feet hurt and his arms were tired from holding the heavy bags, but it was like everything faded away, somehow. The boy, Leo, kept repeating, ''We're getting close, it's close.'' every time he saw something he recognized in his path, and every single time Dean would have to control the tears from falling on his cheeks. They were getting close, close to Sam. He couldn't believe it yet, not totally. 

The girl, named Alexandra, had promised him he was alive and well. She didn't say another word through the whole walk, not even when a Walker, that's what they called them, got in their way. She just gave Dean her knife when he asked for it in a whisper and held Leo close to her heart, face against her chest and hands soothing his hair. Dean stabbed the motherfucker right in the brain, a couple times even. Blood splattered on the last favorite t shirt he had left and he only shrugged. He kept the knife in his hand and had to fight a couple more Walkers along the way, one with his jaw hanging off his face and another one with his guts making him trip. 

They truly were a sight. But none of the kids cried like Dean expected them too, they only stood there and watched until Dean was on the ground, covered in blood and brains but safe and sound. 

When the woods started to clear up and Leo's smile grew wider, Dean ran. He dropped everything to the ground when he saw a structure, ran and ran and slowed down when he looked up at an old man sitting on the porch. 

''Who the hell are you?'' He asked in a loud voice, which brought people out of the house. Dean was out of breath but he didn't bother breathing anymore, just looked at the door opening wide and at the lady who came out, followed by another girl and then, finally, 

Sam. 

''Oh my god,'' his little brother said, and thank god he did because Dean couldn't say anything. ''Dean, Dean, you- you made it.'' 

Sam walked down the steps and skipped the last ones, walking with tears in his eyes until he attacked Dean with a hug. Dean just stood there and took it for a moment, until he came back to himself and hugged his brother close. 

-

They had a lot to tell each other, a lot to catch up to, because even if the end of the world had started a month ago, they hadn't truly talked in well over six. Still, Dean needed to meet the extend of Jessica's family, and his heart hurt for Sam when he remembered. He looked at him more carefully, now, as if one wrong stare would shatter his little brother. He didn't look weak, Sam was never weak, but he looked fragile, with something missing in his eyes. Dean got flashbacks of Sam when he was 6 years old, hiding under the covers because Dad got home drunk and had leftover anger from the horrors of the past to take out on someone. 

Jessica's old man, Denis, was rough around the edges, didn't seem really open minded and smelled like he hadn't showered in weeks. Still, his lady's hip was always stuck to him, and he had a protective arm around her waist when she smiled at Dean around the 'Welcome' she got out. Her name was Lucy and the wrinkles around her eyes made her look older, though friendly. The only other woman there was Freddie, and she was Leo's mom, Lucy's little sister, attractive enough that Dean absently thought he would have hit on her if he'd had the chance to meet her in a bar somewhere. And then there was Alexandra. 

The whole family seemed like they were trying so hard to stay united, and Dean, no matter how hard he tried to push the thoughts to the back of his head, didn't feel as welcome as he thought he'd be. They were good people, even if not very nice. It shouldn't matter if Dean felt welcomed or not, they were safe. Maybe Sam was happy with them, happier than he would be alone on the road with him. 

So most of the time Dean kept watch.

The first night he took a shotgun, the silencer for it and walked outside, Sam followed him. It was the first time they were completely alone in days. 

They stayed silent, side by side, for a while. Enjoying each other's company, maybe, or enjoying the slight breeze that came with nightfall. Sam wanted to say something, Dean knew by the way he wouldn't look at him and how he fondled with his fingers, tearing some skin around his nails apart. 

''Don't do that,'' Dean said. ''It's gonna hurt like a bitch.'' 

Sam ignored him, but apparently Dean saying something was the push Sam needed. 

''I think they blame me for it, you know.'' He gulped down a sob. ''I was alone with her when it happened, she was a couple meters in front of me, and they... a dozen of them just, came out of fucking nowhere.'' 

Dean couldn't do anything but stare. 

''I only had a knife, Dean, and I...'' Sam wouldn't look at him. ''I froze. She tried running towards me, but they surrounded her and...'' 

''Stop,'' Dean said. ''What else could you have done? You only had a knife, Sam, you would have died with her.'' 

Sam looked at him in despair, cheeks wet with tears that wouldn't stop falling. He had trouble getting the words out, but when he finally did, 

''Maybe that would have been better.'' 

Dean froze. He didn't understand loving someone else like that, someone that wasn't blood. Couldn't understand what Sam was feeling right now, only that he could only imagine feeling the same if Sam died. He couldn't tell him his thoughts were stupid ; they weren't, they were part of life and grief and so Dean just didn't _know_ what to say. 

''It wouldn't have,'' he got out. ''You son of a bitch, it wouldn't have.'' 

''I'm sorry about her,'' he added, almost saying her name but feeling wrong about it, in some way. Like he wasn't worthy of it. ''But for you to die with her, it... it would have killed me too.'' 

 _I had to kill a girl,_ Dean almost blurred out _. I had to shoot her in the head and watch her family's bodies melting on the ground afterwards. I had to drown myself in blood and tears to get here, had to remember these things aren't human and forget everything I once knew about us._

But this wasn't about him.

Sam sobbed harder, breathless gasps coming out of his mouth sounding like relief, and Dean hugged him, couldn't let him go, and thought about Dad somewhere out there, and Bobby, both dead for all he knew.  

Denis was looking at them through the living room's window, Lucy by her side, always, and he ignored the sobs that came out of her mouth. 

''I can't bear to look at him,'' he said to his wife. ''They're gonna be okay, out there. That brother of his looks capable.'' 

Lucy sobbed harder, squeaks and sniffs and both hands trying so hard to hang on to the edge of the windowsill. 

''I just can't look at him anymore.'' 

-

Dinners were eaten in silence, only Leo talking about the new game he found in the basement or the bug he saved in the garden. Sam and Dean were always seated at the end of the table, and usually, they wouldn't say anything. They'd let the family do their thing and thank them for the food, pay back by killing every Walker along the perimeter, the only thing they were somewhat capable of. Dean's ROTC training came in handy, and Sam just followed his lead. The woods always seemed bigger when it was just the two of them. They never talked about Jessica again. 

Freddie would sometimes watch over them, saying it was her brother in law's request. Dean always felt edgy when she did, and not because he had part of the attention of an attractive woman. He just hated being watched like that, as if they weren't trust worthy, after the number of Walkers they'd killed to protect them so far. It was nearly offensive. 

He finally understood why when he and Sam entered their room and found Denis sitting on one of their beds. He started with,

''I'm going to have to ask you boys to leave,'' and really it wasn't that much of a surprise to Dean.

''Why?'' he asked anyways, because they still had a decent arrangement going on. Food for arms and guns for shelter. This family gained absolutely  _nothing_ from kicking them out.

''Because it's my property, and I don't want to see the face of the person who got my daughter killed no more.''

He was shockingly blunt about it, and Dean almost punched the old man in the face just for that. He looked over at Sam, waiting for him to finally shatter into pieces, after all this time holding on, but his brother didn't. He only nodded and said, 

''Okay,'' going to his side of the room to, oh fuck no, pack his things. 

Dean practically yelled, hurt and angry for himself but mostly on behalf of Sam, who apparently didn't have the energy to fight back. 

''No, not okay, you fucking heartless piece of shit!'' He gripped Denis by the collar, lifting him up the bed. ''What, you're just gonna send us out there to die? The man your daughter was in love with?''

Denis had well chosen his moment, the others were all on a run to find some edible plants. They weren't far but they weren't within hearing distance, and there was no one in this house except for the three of them. Dean knew well this fuckhead had planned it all, expected them to be gone by the time his family got back. 

''Dean,'' Sam let go of the things he was packing to stop him from killing the man. ''It's okay, Dean, let's just go. Let's just go.'' 

Dean didn't let go of his grip on Denis' collar, but he looked over at Sam. Sam, with tears in his eyes and death in his thoughts, wishing he was under the ground beside the girl he loved. To see Sam so heartbroken was a sin. Dean didn't know how he could have let that happened, he should have been able to do something, anything.

''I want to leave, too,'' Sam said, voice low. ''I don't want to stay here anymore. I understand, and I can't...''

''It's okay,'' Dean interrupted, maybe because now he understood too. It was just as hard for Sam to see Jess' family than it was for them to see him. ''We're leaving.''

Once Dean released Denis, the man coughed and soothed his throat by a brush of hands. Dean expected him to say something back, but he didn't, only left them to pack, heavy steps going down the stairs reminding Dean he was as good as a dead man without them. 

Within an hour they were gone.

-

The rain washed over his face and ran into his mouth as he dropped his head back and let it rince him clean. This was the closest he'd gotten to a shower in weeks, and he was so thanful for it he laughed at the grey sky. 

Sam was smarter, though, and so he was the one who rushed to set up their water bottles and fill them up. Dean just stood there for a while, looking at the sky above their heads who hadn't changed even with all the shit that happened down here. Dean thought maybe it should be tainted in red now, instead of blue. 

He let his knees fall in the mud, legs tired for days. The impala had been stolen when they'd gotten to it after leaving the cabin, and they had been on foot ever since. They both had lost count of the days, the months. They still had no idea as to where they were going. 

They were just walking. Walking and stabbing and hiding, sleeping and walking and killing. Sam called it surviving. Dean called it nothing worth living for. He almost couldn't remember who he was anymore. 

-

The rope burned raw on the skin of his wrists as Dean fondled with it. At least they had had the decency of not tying his ankles up, too. Running could be an option, even though simply attempting to get up probably wasn't the best idea, with the barrel of a gun staring at him directly between the eyes.  

He looked over at Sam, little brother still alive and beside him, even with dirt caught in his hair and blood running down his left elbow. Still breathing, still beside him, that was what was important.

''Look, man,'' he tried, exhaling a deep breath from his lungs when the guy raised his eyebrows. ''We're not bad, we don't want trouble. There's enough of that going around as it is. We don't need the living hopping on the crazy train too and killing what's left of the human race.'' 

There was a pause after Sam cursed, looking at him with eyes shooting _let me do the talking._

The older man looked at his partner, a busty brunette with leftover blood fading at the ends of her hair.

''You're kidding, right? You idiots tried to steal our food. That's a selfish attempt at killing us, is what it is.'' He smiled. ''What did you say about saving the human race again?''

Dean didn't really have anything to say to that, except that they'd been eating close to nothing for the past week, anything they could get their hands on really, and that a trunk filled with canned beans and water bottles had sounded like _heaven_. They'd been surprised to even hear a car running when it happened, and after following the tracks for a few days they thought, hey, we can handle two if we're smart about it. 

Apparently they couldn't, not with empty stomachs and little to no sleep. That got Sam a busted elbow and Dean one of the biggest black eyes he'd ever gotten by a girl.

''We're sorry,'' it was Sam's turn to try. ''You guys seemed to be doing good, we're only trying to survive here. Like everybody else, like you.''

The girl seemed to hesitate, Dean knew because of that glare heavy with words she sent her friend's way. She didn't want to kill, probably had been lucky enough to not need to so far. The guy with fat hanging off his torn out shirt probably had been taking care of it all for her. Just like Dean had for Sam.

''We couldn't steal your food. You won. Please.'' _Let us go_ was hanging on the tip of Sam's tongue, and Dean rolled his eyes because of course the kid would beg.

Noise suddenly came from behind them, an engine running for a while and coughing to an end when it stopped near them. Dean managed to turn his head halfway, watched as three people got out of it with loud doors banging closed. Dean and Sam both cringed at the noise. It would attract them, attract them all, were these people stupid?

''Dean,'' Sam said and Dean turned his attention to him immediately, noticing that the busty chick and the old man had put their guns down. Maybe they had a chance now.

Though they didn't need one anymore.

''What happened?'' The man leading the new small group asked as he got close, not even getting a weapon out. The two others stayed silent, by the car.

Dean realized that was probably the most people he'd seen in a long while. They all looked like they were doing fine, clothes dirty but not that much, shaved and looking comfortable in their shoes.

''These fuckers tried to steal the car, the food,'' the old man answered.

The dark haired guy, probably about Dean's age, paused and looked at them. Dean could feel Sam staring at the ground, but he instead chose to directly eye contact the motherfucker. He smiled.

''Lucian, what exactly would we get out of killing them now?''

Dean now decided he _loved_ the motherfucker.

''That's exactly what Sam's been saying!'' He said, struggling to smile with the pain hitting the left side of his face.

''Sam,'' the guy repeated the name, looking intrigued. ''And you are?''

''Dean.''

He nodded,

''I'm Castiel. This is Lucian, Anna, and Rachel and Balthazar are standing by the car.''

''Nice to meet you,'' Sam said, with the sarcastic tone Dean knew oh too well. ''I'd shake your hand, but...''

''Shut the fuck up,'' Lucian said before turning his glance over to Castiel. ''Tell me you're not thinking what you're thinking.'' He whispered, though Dean heard it anyway.

Castiel stared and stared until the douchebag took Anna by the arm and dragged her away. ''Fucking fag, I bet it's cause they have pretty faces, yeah, who cares about surviving when...'' The man talked under his breath as he walked past them, and Dean smacked his mouth shut to keep from talking back.

''Stay here,'' Castiel said, walking back to the car after the words left his mouth.

Sam didn't even need to say a word. The other girl, Rachel, was coming their way probably to look over them, but her pace was slow and steady and Dean figured they had time. Enough to get cover in the forest by them, before the first shots got triggered.

They both rolled over onto their feet and stumbled to the forest, unbalanced, practically in sync. They had to try, had to-

A stupid hole in the cement made Dean trip. Without his hands to try and refrain his fall, he fell directly on his face. He groaned, screamed a little even, and Sam could do nothing else but stop.

''You dumbasses,'' the girl said, voice rough around the edges. ''I'm coming to untie you.''

Sam was the first one to get the privilege, soothing his wrists with his hands, and when Rachel got to Dean, she scoffed. 

''Well, you're more than halfway there. Should I let you finish the job?''

She smiled but freed Dean anyways, keeping the knife gripped tight in her hand. She was smart, careful. Dean could appreciate that.  

When Castiel walked back to them, accompagnied by the whole crew, Dean straigtened his back, without really meaning to. He seemed to be the youngest out of all of them, and still he had to be the leader. Had to be, with the way he walked and the others looked at him. 

''So, you're coming with us.'' Castiel said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, Lucian. Get it?  
> (Not so subtle reference to Lucifer. The guy was originally named Mark, though.)


	2. Chapter 2

  _The horrors of the night melt away, under the warm glow of survival of the day. Then we move on, my shadow grows taller, along with my fears, and my frame shrinks smaller as night grows near._

* * *

''Martha, could you please tell Cas I'm going on a run?'' Dean asked the woman on watch as he put on his gear. ''We need some meds, and some more food would do us good. You know my brother, always hungry.''

Martha scoffed, raising her eyebrows at Dean as she tied her hair up.

''You going alone? Tell him yourself, pretty boy, I ain't your slave.'' She laughed. ''There's a big chance he gonna be against it.''

''But you're the one with the walkie talkie!'' Dean practically whined, not wanting to walk all the way back to Castiel's quarters. Not that the walk was long, it's just that he was _already_ at the gate. 

''Shame,'' she said, turning her back towards him.

''I know it's been a month or so, but I'm pretty sure that's not what Cas meant when he said 'Make them feel welcome'. You should be ashamed of yourself.'' He loved being dramatic at times, if it could bring a smile on people's faces. Martha was a good woman, had lost her son when it had all started, when she was too blind to understand and trusted the army to take care of her family. She'd told Dean about it when they were on watch together one night, saying _Never again_ when Dean could do nothing but stay silent.

She was strong and mostly a loner. Dean never really saw her talking to anybody, except for when she had to. It made him feel somewhat accomplished, almost respected, when he could get a laugh out of her.

He didn't mind walking back to Castiel, didn't mind seeing him at all, if he was honest with himself. After Denis had kicked them out, he thought maybe good people had become a rarity. And it had took some time, long days and nights of Sam and Dean being chaperoned until they finally gained the group's trust and Dean learned to appreciate the leader for who he was. He believed his values were at the right place.

''You both look strong,'' Castiel had told them the first night. ''We need arms able to carry guns, we need soldiers. That's the only reason why I saved your lives back there.''

And Cas had been right. They needed soldiers, even with him and Sam added to the mix, there were too many children and people to protect.

''But first we need to trust you. Tell me everything you've done, everything that has happened to you, since the beginning.''

That had been the hard part, tearing himself open to every bit of fear he'd felt so far, every doubt he'd had and every thing he'd done. Telling this stranger about how he still had nightmares of a long lost girl dead because of him, tore apart bodies of her family standing beside her, ignoring Sam's stare as he did so. He didn't need his brother's pity. 

It was strange to think that that guy used to be him. He'd stopped counting how many people he'd had to off because of an unlucky bite on the stomach or the neck long ago. Sometimes, even, it was easier to look at the people around him and believe they were all already dead men walking. It was almost inhuman to do so, but it was easier. Less heart shattering, knowing he couldn't lose more pieces of himself if he didn't have them anymore.

Castiel and the people around him eventually warmed up to them. They were about fifty in the group, some more capable than others, all protected by homemade walls built from scratch. There was this crazy smart guy named Steve who'd started a community when the first outbreak scared most people off, and started building the walls while they still had time on their side. Castiel was a friend of a friend, and first mostly took care of the runs and armory and such. When Steve died to the bites of the Walkers, he took complete command. People trusted him, in a way. He had some type of calming aura surrounding him. Dean could see that, even if Sam had scoffed at him when he'd shared those thoughts with him one night. ''It's probably just your dick talking,'' Sam had said, and even though it was dark Dean _knew_ the fucker was raising his eyebrows up and down, so he threw a pillow at him. 

But now he was knocking on the leader's door, not waiting for an answer before opening wide.

''Castiel?'' He called. ''I'm going on a short run. Thought I'd let you know.'' He wasn't the type to ask for permission. 

Castiel walked down the stairs while putting a t shirt over his head, hair still wet from the shower he'd obviously just taken.

''Would you mind my company?''    

-

Autumn was closing in on them, which really didn't mean anything in a state like San Francisco. Still, the orange tainted leaves falling to the ground reminded Dean things could always change, even if now they seemed safe and sound. The walls were holding and no one feared the colder wind, but they'd all heard stories of people chasing other groups from their homes just because. Castiel was big on taking people in, and that's what happened when people from out there got here. They shared stories. Dean believed it to be a coping mechanism for the human race as old as time, and that maybe those stories would become legends hard to believe some day. 

''Who were you, before?'' 

Dean wasn't scared of the noise anymore, so he traveled along the roads with any old classics he could get his hands on blasting through the speakers of the shitty cars he kept borrowing. He had to lower the volume to answer Castiel with a, 

''What?'' 

The smile on Castiel's mouth was faint but it was there, as if Dean had done something funny without knowing it.

''What was your life like, before the end?'' He reformulated the question. 

Dean could say a lot of things. He could answer that he used to be a mechanic, form words to explain he tried getting in the army back when he was younger. That he now believed his past life didn't really matter, that he was born for _this_ instead. Because even if his mom died giving birth to Sam, he was still the best damn thing that ever happened in his life and that he'd be damned if he let some zombies take that away from him. Maybe his life had always been just like this, minus the dead men walking. 

''Sam went to Stanford,'' he said as if his life had started there, which Castiel nodded at, knowing Sam was one of the brains in the group. ''We were born in Kansas, I stayed there, found a job. Mechanic.''

''Alone?'' Castiel asked, as if he were really interested in Dean's past life.

His throat tightened and he had to take a breath before answering, in the most nonchalant way possible,

''Nah, my father came and went, to this day still don't know where to. He was gone when... when it happened.''  

Castiel didn't make the following silence heavy, nor long. 

''I'm sorry,'' he said almost instantly, and Dean would usually scoff if someone apologized to be polite to him like that. This time he didn't.

''Don't be,'' he quickly answered back instead. ''The son of a bitch is probably doing better than we are.'' The lie flew out of his mouth so easily it almost made him want to believe it.  

''What about you?''

Castiel smiled to himself, which he seemed to do often, even in times like these. 

''I was nothing, had nothing. Homeless, here in San Francisco. I guess it prepared me for all of this.''

For some reason, Dean had trouble picturing it. The grand leader Castiel, struggling to get food in his stomach and with no place to call his home. He'd never been totally homeless, but he remembered watching his dad struggle with bills on their small coffee table, glass of whiskey never leaving his hand's side. One poor, swept under the table salary was hard to manage when you had two teenage kids.

No one bothered about money anymore, and Dean felt like he should be grieving for their past lives. A whole wide world economy system, thrown out the window that fast, when it used to be everything most people cared about. That got him thinking about other things that were different, like time. The most accommodating survivors never cared for a watch anymore. Just like it used to happen during long vacations from school, Dean couldn't remember what the date was. He didn't find it in himself to care.       

He and Castiel didn't talk much more as he poorly parked the truck in a general store's parking lot. Almost as if they didn't need words, they walked around the place and met back at the entrance. All clear, they said to each other with a nod.

''What are we looking for exactly?'' Castiel asked him with his left hand already on the door handle, right hand holding a machete. He looked fearless with it. 

''Anything that could be useful, really,'' he said. ''I'd rather be prepared than sorry, I don't want us to be shorthanded on anything.''

Castiel smiled,

''It's almost as if you're the boss now.''

Dean faked a petrified face,

''Oh god, never. Couldn't handle the responsibility.''

That got a laugh out of Castiel, right until he opened the door and was greeted with the mess the store had become. From the mostly useless supplies scattered all over the ground to the bad smell that irritated Dean's nose, he knew they wouldn't find anything in the place. He considered the possibilities, wondered if the off chance of finding some leftovers was worth the risk of maybe coming across one too many Walkers. Castiel seemed to be thinking the same,

''Let's check it out anyways. Most people don't have the time or the luggage to bring everything they find.''

Castiel went directly for the pharmacy section, so Dean decided to search for food. He looked at Castiel's back until he went out of sight, wondering what else the man had been through so far.

He hadn't found much (tampons, ketchup and a couple of cans of tomatoes) when he heard a crash. There were no scream from Castiel, no hints the man was actually in danger, except for the loud noise that echoed through. Dean let his bag fall over his shoulder and ran the small distance to the back of the store, not really knowing what to expect.

Rotten flesh had a distinct smell to it, one he was unfortunately getting used to, but he still held his breath when he came face to face with three of the dead, eyes gouged out and some bones tearing their skin open. He was almost impressed by one, with the bottom half of his leg completely turned the other way around. 

He managed to take that one out easily, one push and one perfectly aimed stab to the brain. It's the second one he got trouble with, knife stuck in the base of her skull where it wouldn't turn just right to off her. He had to kick the other loser away at a weird angle, until he finally got it and could stab the remaining son of a bitch.

By the time the three of them were on the ground, he found himself wanting to catch his breath. He didn't have the time or the luxury to do so, though, seeing Cas was practically passing out in the corner of the room, a dead body weighting him down. 

''Castiel, you good?'' The man's first answer was to cough, or groan, Dean wasn't sure, as he pushed the body away. 

''I'm, okay.'' He said after a pause. ''Didn't get bitten. I believe.'' 

Dean smiled along with him, helping him off the ground. He tried to ignore Castiel's blood wetting his fingers or the way his fingers dipped into his shoulder blades for support. It slightly hurt, but after some steps Castiel's grip loosened and he ended up being able to walk on his own.

Dean also tried to ignore the disappointment sinking to his stomach.

''Let's go back home.''

-

''Do it, kill me. _Do it._ ''

Grief did things to people, ate them to the bone and consumed them with the memories of lost loved ones. Dean had seen it happen on his father, stared at it right in the face when it changed a good, strong man into a pile of ashes, only bits of who he once was remaining in the dust. Had to deal with it on his own when he was only four, ending up grieving for a mother he could barely remember by the time he turned sixteen. Grief was harsh and raw and everything Dean hated most. 

Seeing it on his brother was worse than he could have ever imagined. Because it wasn't the real Sam, gun aimed at his face, spitting words like ' _kill me_ ' and ' _do it_ ' to a maniac in the middle of the night. It couldn't be. 

Dean ran until he could get between the two men, between a gun and the life he held dearest in this world. 

He looked between the two of them, searched for answers in Sam's eyes but got nothing except for anger. 

''Whoa, whoa, hold up.'' He eventually breathed out. ''Drop the gun, Lucian.'' 

People started gathering around them, and Dean felt something drop in his gut when he realized no one else was stepping in to help. 

That is until Castiel caught up and walked through the small crowd, extending his arm, open palm towards Lucian as soon as he had good sight of the situation. 

''Lucian, Lucian. Look at me.'' The man's eyes rapidly shifted between Castiel and Sam, gun steady. ''What's going on?'' 

''I just caught this motherfucker trying to break into our armory,'' he said to Castiel, and then turned his entire attention back to Sam. ''What were you planning on doing, huh?''

Dean took in the words before he looked at his brother, pleading for him to deny it all. They were safe here, had something close to good. Had walls. Why risk it all? 

Sam's gaze didn't weaken, his eyes didn't fall to the ground and he didn't mouth 'sorry' at Dean like he expected him too. He just tensed up before saying to Lucian, 

''I don't trust you.'' 

For what seemed like the first time in his life, Dean didn't understand his brother. 

''Okay, you don't trust us. Fair enough, we don't trust you either now.'' Castiel said, slowly walking towards Lucian. Dean, in a moment of panic, thought Castiel was agreeing with the older man and was ready to accept Sam's death for a crime nobody understood yet. However, Castiel got close enough to quickly hit Lucian's wrist with his left palm and knock the gun out of his hand. The decision had been made : other men jumped on Lucian to restrain him from using his fists. 

''Don't hurt him,'' Castiel said, before taking Sam by the arm and bringing him away. Dean soon followed, listening to the profanities pouring out of Lucian's mouth behind him. He heard the word ''weak'' more than once.   

-

''He would have shot my brother!'' Dean yelled, heart beating faster at the thought. ''For something nobody else saw him do! He's clearly cra-'' 

''I was about to do it,'' Sam interrupted. He looked at Dean's furious glare, ''There's no point in lying.'' 

The room they were in was poorly illuminated, more shadows than light dancing on the four walls, and so Dean had trouble clearly seeing Sam's face. He couldn't _believe_ what he was hearing, and he couldn't even rely on sight. Was Sam even trying? 

''Why?'' Castiel asked, walking around the room as if he couldn't stay still. It made Dean feel a little dizzy, even though he clearly was fidgeting too. 

''Like I said, I don't trust you. I wanted to have an... advantage, I guess. Something.'' 

It took a moment of silence before Dean spoke up again. 

''Sam just wanted to feel safer. That Lucian clearly has anger issues to solve, if he was ready to get blood on his hands that fast.''

Castiel nodded, 

''I understand wanting to feel safer, Sam, I do. Self defense, I get it. But I can't let that slide.'' He then looked at Dean. ''And yes, Lucian has problems. Look around you. We all do.'' 

Dean laughed, 

''The guy's a grade A homophobic asshole. I would have kicked him out long ago.''  He didn't know from where exactly homophobic came from, just remembered the first time he met the man and heard him throw ''faggot'' in the air referencing to Cas. 

Castiel stared at him for a while longer, so much that Dean had to clear his throat and look away. Sam was still just standing there, not saying anything to try and save himself. The kid could be so fucking stubborn when he wanted to.  

''We don't kick people out. I'm not kicking Sam out either.'' Castiel said to that. ''Stay here, will you?'' 

He closed the door behind them.

When he came back, it was with two other men and handcuffs. Sam didn't even lift a finger.  

-

Apparently, Castiel didn't make all the decisions alone, and even though he ''liked Dean's presence'', he couldn't just give a free pass to Sam. 

''Fuck, you can't just leave him there forever,'' Dean proclaimed, ''I don't see Lucian tied up in a fucking basement. Sam wasn't the one threatening to _kill_ right there and then.'' 

Castiel had joined him while he was taking some food from their stock, planning to bring some more to Sam. He'd been there two days in total, but he believed one second in that hell hole was too long for Sam. He didn't deserve this. He'd tried to talk it through with him the best he could, _why didn't you talk to me about it_ , _how did you think you wouldn't get caught? ,_ but Sam had always been stubborn. His answer had been an halfhearted laugh, accompanied with '' _You were too busy making friends._ '' 

Castiel smiled in that apologetic way of his, telling exactly what Dean already knew. Lucian had some kind of fucked up hierarchy, had been there with this group since the start, and it didn't really matter how much of an asshole he could be.

''He's kind of part of the family, Dean. I'm sorry, it's just how it is.'' 

Dean laughed at that, taking the last pack of chips as he did so, because Castiel was always sorry. 

''And it's not like I saved your ass from becoming Walker food or anything.'' 

He was about to leave on that note, with all the food he could manage in both hands, when all of it dropped to the floor. Castiel's body made him walk backwards until his spine hit the wall. 

''Don't forget that if it weren't for me, you'd be dead by a bullet to the brain. Sam, too.'' Castiel said, all teeth. He was pinning him on the wall, stronger than he looked and scarier than Dean ever thought he could become, knowing Dean's weakness by mentioning Sam. It's only then that he realized _why_ exactly Castiel was leader. The man had power, from his muscles to his brain. ''I'm grateful you saved my life. But don't think I owe you.'' 

Dean nodded, pushing Castiel out of his personal space. Anger was spilling out of his pores, practically blurring his vision and clarity. 

''If it weren't for Lucian, there would have been no bullets to begin with.'' 

Castiel didn't stop him from leaving that time. 

-

The next day, it was a scream that woke Dean up. He was sleeping in a puddle of blankets next to Sam's homemade cell, and he heard Sam's _'I'm waking up but I really don't want to'_ usual groan. 

''What-'' his little brother started, but Dean was already on his feet, gripping his pistol tight and walking out the door, not forgetting to lock it on his way out. If there was a real threat out there, Sam was safer behind a locked door.

He followed the crowd to where the scream had come from. He practically ran while others muttered under their breaths and walked slow. They were all scared of what was waiting for them, only Dean was the only one facing it head on. He pushed past a bunch of them until the smell made it so unmistakable he had to remember to breathe.  

He found himself before an horrid scene, fresh blood pooling on the ground not far away from his feet. The body was one of a woman, which he recognized only by her red sweater and dark, once toned skin.

Martha. 

There was a walker laying permanently dead beside her, bits of flesh still hanging from his mouth and stuck in his teeth.

Some women were already taking their children by the arm, pulling them away from the scene, and Dean loudly told everybody to move away. 

''Where's Castiel?'' He asked Jeffrey, who still held a bloody knife in his left hand.

''I don't know, maybe still in his quarters, I-'' The poor man looked down, let the knife fall to the ground. ''I was the first one to get here, I never had to, kill one, before. I'm-''

 _Pathetic_ , Dean thought, but instead said,

''Fine. You're fine, you did well. Go find Cas.''  

Jeffrey looked scandalized for a moment, but was too shaken to protest Dean's order. He just did as he was told, and Dean sighed when the man left. There was a small group, the most capable men and women, gathering beside the gate, which was now, Dean noticed, being closed. 

He looked down at Martha's body again, repeated to the people who were too stubborn to get back to their house that they were safe but that they really shouldn't stay around, before making his way to the gate. 

''Did someone leave?'' He asked, interrupting the conversation that had been happening. One large woman Dean couldn't even remember the name of answered, 

''We don't have to tell you anything,'' spitting the words at Dean. ''You're merely a guest, here.''  

Castiel chose that moment to arrive, Jeffrey by his side, and Dean felt relief in seeing his face. The man had just woke up, probably an heavy sleeper (which was unlucky, in this world), and even though Dean was still angry at him for putting his brother in a cage like he was a freaking animal, he couldn't deny Castiel knew how to take charge and keep it. Most of the strong people here weren't only rude and full of themselves, they didn't know how to channel their anger for the better, which Dean had became an expert at, over the years. They needed Castiel, as much as Dean knew they didn't like to admit it. The leader was the perfect balance of peace the group needed. 

He stopped in his tracks once he saw Martha on the ground, but not for more than a second. He quickly regained control, which it had taken Dean several minutes to do. 

''Now, Sophia, tell me what happened,'' he said calmly. 

She looked at Dean and back at Cas as if she couldn't say it if _he_ was there, but Castiel's gaze stayed stiff. 

''Tonight was Lucian's shift,'' she said. ''Martha was supposed to take over at 2, and all we know so far is that Jeffrey found her dead, with that one Walker still munching on her leg.'' 

She paused, looked at everybody before sighing and saying,

''We can't find Lucian. The gate was already open.'' 

Dean looked over at Castiel, wondering what the man was making of that, while the others talked to themselves. 

''So, Lucian left and didn't close the gate behind him,'' he said and everyone silenced. ''For God knows how long before Martha got here.'' 

There was a pause, heavy silence resting around them all like a deadly fog falling from the sky. Dean didn't know what to say, didn't really know what to think other than if he and Sam hadn't been here, maybe Lucian wouldn't have left, and maybe Martha would still be alive. It wasn't Sam's fault, but Dean could only think of the burden that would fall on his shoulder once he learned about what happened. 

''We were lucky,'' Castiel said, surprising everybody while killing the silence. ''It could have been more of them walking in. It was only one.'' 

Dean scoffed, 

''Yeah, only one dead woman, only one life lost.'' He was always so angry. ''That's nothing, right? That's lucky.''

He saw some people's expressions shifting, going from relief due to Castiel's words to anger because of his. Dean didn't like them, and they sure as hell didn't like him, but most agreed with him on that. That was new. 

Castiel stopped the raising voices, the _''Yeah, Dean's right,''_ the _''We can't have that again,''_ and the _''I'm getting tired of constantly needing to be fucking optimistic''_  , with a, 

''Go back to your houses, your families. Now.'' 

And everyone did. Except him. 

Castiel didn't even give him a glare, just walked past him and crouched beside Martha once everybody else left. Dean watched as Castiel closed his eyes, and Dean wondered how the man could look so pretty next to the horrible truth that was their lives now, and Dean had to close his eyes too, and Dean continued to breathe. Martha was dead, and Castiel was muttering words under his breath. A couple, broken ' _God_ ' and ' _Please'_ found their way to his ears and told him he was praying.

He let him have his moment, went to find gloves and shovels and when he came back, the Walker's body had already been dragged on the other side of the wall and Castiel was standing next to Martha's.

''I don't want to drag her all the way there,'' he said.   

Dean handed him a pair of gloves before saying, 

''Grab her by the shoulders, I'll take her legs. We can manage.'' 

It surprised him how okay he was with all this, how he didn't even flinch when he grabbed the dead body. Because that's all it was now. A dead body among so, so, so many others.

Soon they would all be part of it too.

After Dean went and checked on Sam, they both spent the rest of the night digging the grave. It came to a point where Dean couldn't tell which parts of him were sweating, and yet couldn't tell his body apart from the cold air around him so much he was freezing. It was like, in a fucked up way, he'd become one with the universe around him and his sore muscles were too sore to even feel like muscles. He just hurt. That was the simplest way to put it.

''How do we know when we've reached 6 feet?'' Dean asked suddenly, when his body was almost completely surrounded by dirt and only his head and shoulders were poking out. 

Castiel stopped digging and looked at him, before a tiny smile appeared on his face, 

''How tall are you?'' He asked, smile growing when confusion spread across Dean's face. 

''I mean, around 6'1, why do-'' He stopped talking, and couldn't help smiling too. ''Yeah. I think we did it.'' 

There was a pause before Dean's smile grew and he started _laughing_. It started as a chuckle, but then he couldn't help it, and it wasn't even that funny but for some reason his brain thought it was. He laughed like he hadn't in more than eight months now, so hard that he was afraid tears were going to spill down his cheeks, and Castiel laughed too. They were in a fucking grave and they both looked disgusting, felt like it too, and they were laughing. For a while, it was refreshing, like the sun rays finally managed to pierce through the clouds. But suddenly Dean felt like his heart had swelled up, and the sun stopped shining straight away. For some reason, each breath he inhaled now reached him to the bottom of his stomach like a weight pressing him down and he gasped ugly before his laughter turned into half, heartbroken sobs.   

He didn't even truly notice the change until Castiel dropped his own shovel and walked closer to him. _I must look mad_ , he thought, as Castiel grabbed his face and swept both his thumbs under his eyes. The movement was spreading dirt across his cheeks, but he didn't care. Castiel continued to do it until he had no reason to anymore, until Dean could start breathing easily again. 

He let his back fall against the edge of the hole they were in, knowing his body couldn't support itself anymore, and he didn't want to burden Castiel with his weakness. He passed his own dirty hand on his face, like that would clear it up, before he found the strength to speak up. 

''I'm sorry, Cas, I didn't mean...'' His gulp was audible. ''I'm tired, that's all.'' 

Castiel's smile looked empathetic, if such thing was even possible.

''Don't apologize,'' he said to him. ''You needed it.''

They felt suddenly really intimate. Dean couldn't remember a time he cried like that in front of anyone before, and the feeling was somehow overwhelming him. That thought clouded his head and he couldn't think straight anymore. 

The darkness outside and the still blurry state of his eyes made it almost impossible to see the details of Castiel's face. And so Dean didn't really see the way his expression shifted, the way his mouth closed after a breath as he held it in and the way his cheeks flushed. He only saw Castiel's face get closer, only felt his breath mixing with his own in the empty space between their mouths.

Dean had an idea of what was about to happen, and it came in like a revelation, as if he'd found the place that was itching on him for so long and was finally getting ready to scratch it. 

He felt like Castiel should ask, felt like Castiel _wanted_ to ask before doing anything serious, because this was clearly overstepping boundaries. Castiel was way too polite of a man to just  _take_ what he wanted in situations like these. 

Dean didn't want him to ask, though (Dean wanted to be taken). The silence felt just right, there was no need for Castiel to break it. 

So he closed the gap between them. 

He didn't even mind that he faintly tasted like dirt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They kissed in a grave?? When a dead body was mere feet away from them??  
> This is like kind of gross but fits well with the world they're in I guess lmao screw me I'm already going to hell anyways.
> 
> Also, the safe zone they are in is heavily inspired by Alexandria from the actual show, Twd. If you're only a Spn fan and have never seen Twd well... look it up on google image, they have some pretty good visuals. Though you don't really need to. It's just walls. Also, watch Twd some time.

**Author's Note:**

> Ratings and tags will change as the story goes.  
> Expect some smut along the way, I guess.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated


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